#slight zabusaku and kakasaku

[frostmarris]

On the Shore

Kisame/Sakura, subtle/implied Zabuza/Sakura and Kakashi/Sakura - Fantasy AU

summary: The mist always brings strange things.

notes: for flowergirl for the Haruno Sakura Server's Annual Holiday Gift Exchange!! Some spooky magical nonsense lol

I'll be posting a draw to go with it in a moment!

: :

When the mist rolled across the lake, it always brought strange things with it.

Once, it had been a small boat. Nothing more than a tiny rowboat - the oars had been missing and there was no way to anchor it, so they'd been forced to wade out into the cold water and pull it ashore. They'd found a child curled up in the hull, clutching a blanket that shimmered under the light of their lanterns, the colors of the winter lights dancing across the fabric every time it moved. Long dark hair and snowflakes in his lashes, a timid voice and wide eyes that seemed to read into their souls.

Another time, there had been fire. Bright flames that refused to stay a single color, skittering across the calm waters of the lake and always remaining just out of reach. Fairie lights, he'd heard the elders murmur to each other. Kisame had managed to catch one, much to the shock of the other children, and he'd expected the flame to burn his hands. Instead, he'd only felt warmth and affection, spreading through him from the tips of his fingers to his very core. It had flickered yellow, then blue, a brilliant white, and then disappeared, the warmth in his hands remaining for several hours.

A sea serpent with scales like diamonds, cranes with feathers made of ice, a koi the size of a tree, a deep black cloak that'd they'd mistaken as oil until one boy had plucked it from the waters, a silver bell that - when rung - could be heard for miles... Gifts that remained in the water disappeared shortly after, never seen again and remaining only as stories and sightings, regaled over the dinner table or amongst friends. Those that were pulled from the lake, coveted and desired and loved and cherished, always stayed. The boy had grown into a young man, prettier than many of the local girls; the bell was placed in the town center, rung whenever the mist arrived; and Kisame's friend still wore the cloak which never frayed or tore no matter what trouble they'd got themselves into.

The mists came less and less frequently over the years. The last one had been over eight months ago and had brought gemstones, tiny and opalescent, ashore. No one in town had seen the arrival and they'd all thought that the mist had been a fluke, the first time in the history of the lake that nothing came from the water. But then, with the light of the next morning, they'd found the stones amongst the sand and rock of the lakeshore. Everyone had gone home with a handful, some pieces set into jewelry or locked away with other treasures.

Kisame kept one in his pocket for luck, occasionally reaching a hand into his jacket to make sure it was still there and run his fingers over the smooth surface.

: :

He was in the woods when he heard the bell ringing.

The tone, deep and melodic despite the silver bell being no larger than a tea kettle, carried through the trees and canopy of leaves, echoing around Kisame and making him glance up with a start. Task forgotten, he shouldered his rifle and began to hurry back to town, his heart pounding as his brisk walk evolved into a sprint. He ran across the open field of tall grass, the blades reaching up to his waste and waving in the wind like the waters of the lake. It wasn't the season for wildflowers and the air was cold with the coming winter, his breath apparent as puffs of white as he raced home.

He saw others running back to town as well. Some stopping in the middle of fieldwork or children cutting their games short as all rushed to the lake on the other side of town, the mists already reaching land. Kisame avoided carts and stragglers, wisps of mist reaching between buildings like curious fingers as it brought the usual darkness with it, and cut through an alley to heave himself up and over a brick wall before dropping down on the otherwise. His boots landed heavily on the cobblestone and he paused only a moment before he continued on, the stonework soon giving way to grass as he left the town itself and joined the growing sea of curious townsfolk as they approached the shore. The sky grew dark the closer to the lake he came as the heavy clouds blocked the sun, making everything seem dull and gray.

The people spread out, scattered around the lake's edge. Some of the more adventurous already stood shin-deep in the cold water as they tried to see through the heavy mist as it rolled in while others stayed on the pebble and sand of the bank, all waiting with bated breaths to see what would arrive.

Kisame wandered along the edge, well-aware that the gifts never came from the same place, and occasionally passed a neighbor or two, eyes never leaving the still waters. The air was quiet save for a few whispers and a breeze rustling rustling leaves of the sparse trees dotted around the lake and he found himself a fair distance from the town's edge, the lanterns and lights of the buildings and homes just a faint glow in the fog. There was a tension he could taste, heavy on his tongue, as he knew that some townsfolk sought competition in the mists, waiting to claim whatever gift the waters brought ashore.

(His friend was quite proud of one of the diamond scales he'd salvaged from the sand and Kisame himself kept a never-melting ice feather on his mantle.)

There was an exclamation from one of the trees nearby and Kisame glanced up to see one of the local boys in the branches, clutching the trunk as he pointed out into the mist. Those who'd gotten the same idea as Kisame to spread out all looked to the lake, breaths held until the bow of a boat pierced the fog. There was a chorus of sighs when they realized it's just one of the locals' fishing boats and people dispersed, continuing to wander the sjore or head back towards the town as they searched the mist. Kisame, however, remained, raising a hand in greeting as he realized it was Zabuza's boat.

His hand lowered slightly as his friend came into view, the rowboat still drifting towards the shore but the man's back to Kisame as he faced the way he'd come. One hand clutched the gunwale, knuckles white and gripping the wood edge, while his other hand delicately held a yellow rose. That black cloak sat high on his shoulders, nearly cutting off Kisame's view of the flower. Zabuza stared into the thick mist behind his boat, barely moving, and Kisame felt his breath catch in his chest again as he waited, only the two of them left now.

Spots of yellow began to appear on the water's surface. More roses, Kisame realized, all floating peacefully towards the shore. They seemed to be normal flowers, but he still found himself setting his rifle down and stepping into the lake, his boots thick and tall enough that he couldn't feel the chill as the water reached his ankles. His eyes were on the roses as they drifted towards him, but he spotted Zabuza stiffen in his peripheral and his head snapped up, shoulders tensing as a new color peeked through the mist.

Pink joined the dots of yellow and Kisame assumed it was simply more flowers. But, he soon realized it was most definitely not roses and stared wide-eyed as a person appeared through the mist, floating amongst the blossoms. He and Zabuza were both frozen in place, watching the unconscious woman as her body slowly drifted with the subtle current, the dark blue fabric of her gown blending in with the water. There was a beat before Kisame found himself hurrying forward. Ankle deep in the lake, then knee- waist- chest- wading through the water towards the pink-haired woman as she floated a yard or so away from Zabuza's boat. Kisame heard a splash as he neared her and was soon joined by his friend, the mist thickening around them. Yellow roses bumped against Kisame and drifted away, caught in the small waves his movement in the water produced until, finally, she was within reach.

He hesitated.

Her hair, petal pink even while soaked through, haloed her head while that dress, a deep, rich blue, spotted with white, glowing pearls that Kisame mistook at first as starlight, spread out around her legs, ruffled and feathering under and across the surface of the water. The deep plunge of the dress' neckline brought warmth to his face and had Kisame looking elsewhere, gaze traveling along the billowing sleeves to her delicate hands then back up. Her face was pale and flushed, pointed towards the dark sky and obviously lovely even though she was upside down to his view, with droplets caught in her pink lashes and brows. Her eyes were closed but her expression was peaceful, as if she were only sleeping, and finally, gently, Kisame reached out, gathering her in his arms as he waded back towards the shore. Zabuza, his boat forgotten, followed close behind, helping to make sure she never dipped below the water's surface, until they reached the bank.

Kisame could feel her breathing against his arms and she was warm despite the icy bite of the water, much to his relief. Once he could feel pebbles and sand under his boots again, he pulled her into a more secure embrace, carrying her in his arms as he rose out of the water. The dress was heavier than he was expecting, especially since it was soaked through, but nothing would pull her from his arms.

They'd obviously been spotted in the water as a small crowd had gathered nearby, quietly murmuring amongst themselves as they watched Kisame carry the mysterious woman out of the lake. She shivered in his arms once they were on land to Zabuza appeared at his side, his cloak already removed, always dry and untouched by the water, and he helped Kisame wrap it around her as her breaths appeared in puffs a white, similar to their own. He felt her shift and he paused, watching her face intently as her eyes slowly opened and she stared up at him.

Brilliant green, sparkling like gemstones, glanced between his face and Zabuza's, confused and lost.

: :

She couldn't remember much from before she woke up in his arms.

It wasn't too surprising. Haku couldn't remember anything from where he came from or how he'd ended up in that boat, even all these years later. It was extremely rare that a person came from the mists but, from all the instances throughout the history of the town, not one of them had memories of their previous lives. They came mostly as blank slates, with only their names and whatever the water brought with them.

Sakura.

There were several cherry blossom trees in town, mostly in gardens and the communal park, and he could easily liken her hair to blooming flowers. Surely wherever she came from had the same trees, even if it was a strange land of sea serpents and frozen cranes.

It was a full day before she spoke, those wide green eyes hesitant and suspicious of everyone that flocked to her, all so curious to see what the mist had brought. Several townsfolk, a few of the elders and some kindly mothers, offered to take her in and give her a home, but she'd clung to Kisame's arm and refused to leave his presence, her gaze wary. She only seemed tolerant of Kisame and Zabuza and, after the fog had disappeared and the sky was bright and sunny again, she finally told them her name. Her voice was soft, more confused than frightened, and they spoke gently to her, asking questions and trying to decipher her mysterious past until she eventually became frustrated with the gaps in her memories.

When her tears hit the wooden top of his old dining table, they clinked and clattered, transformed into glowing pearls that rolled across the grain to tumble to the floor.

They'd stared, all three shocked, until Sakura hesitantly gathered a few pearls, shining like fallen stars, in her hands and fell silent.

Kisame and Zabuza vowed to keep it secret.

: :

The mist returned only three weeks later.

He'd been in the middle of preparing dinner, a pot of water and pasta simmering on the stove and the kitchen smelling of garlic and tomatoes. Sakura was at the table, hemming one of the dresses his neighbor had given her-

(The blue gown wasn't practical for everyday use and while his shirts were big enough to be a dress on her smaller frame, she needed actual clothes of her own.)

-while she waited. While her memories of her life were missing, it seemed knowledge and skills remained and Sakura had turned out to be quite the seamstress. She'd already stitched an old rip in one of his coats and he'd been more than happy to bring her some finer threads at her sheepish request, a fluttering in his heart when he'd found the small embroidered designs on a few of his shirt collars.

Kisame had been absentmindedly brushing his thumb over the sailing ship on his collar when he'd heard the bell. Sakura glanced up, eyes full of confusion as he hurriedly turned off the stove and moved the pan of sauce off the heat. He realized then that he'd never told her what the bell meant and, a little flustered, he quickly explained.

"The mist is back," He repeated, grabbing a lantern and a coat that was only a little too big for her, "Let's go see what it's brought."

Sakura seemed... hesitant. But, at seeing the excitement in his gaze, she set down her needle and thread and stood, letting Kisame help her into the coat before following after him as more townsfolk hurried out of their homes and into the evening. The warm light of the setting sun soon disappeared in the mist and clouds and Kisame nearly tripped when he felt her slip her delicate hand into his, his face warming with a flush. He smiled down at Sakura, but she was peering into the mist, her eyebrows furrowed by her thoughts.

By the time they made it to the edge of the lake, the sky was dark and only the light of swinging lanterns broke the curtain of fog. Kisame felt a weight land on his shoulder and glanced over to see Zabuza, his hair wet and his clothing haphazard. There were a few lingering suds behind his ear and Kisame couldn't help but laugh, any water that dripped onto that black cloak simply rolling off.

"Were you in the middle of a shower, Zabuza? That's some rotten timing, huh?"

His friend grimaced at his taunting, but the sound of his name had Sakura glancing up, a bright smile appearing on her face. If the sudden hug she gave Zabuza left his cheeks flushing, Kisame fortunately kept his teasing to himself.

The three walked along the shore, eyes on the lake and lanterns held aloft as they searched for what strange beast or gift the mist had brought this time.

He startled when he heard the first howl.

It came from somewhere in the distance, echoing through the still air before silence returned once more. It returned a few moments later, and again and again, progressively getting closer until Kisame could hear someone shout in the distance. It went on for several minutes, a howl and a shout, someone spotting something in the mist somewhere along the lake's shore until, finally, he heard the sound of water splashing.

Kisame held his lanterns higher and the flame caught something through the fog. A glimmer, a flash of light, caught in the eyes of something in the mist. They paused in their aimless walking across the pebbles and sand and watched as the light caught again, the splashing closer now, until a shape emerged through the mist.

The silver-white of the wolf's coat camouflaged it well, helping it hide in the fog, but there was no obscuring that red eye. The beast stood on the water's surface, at least thirty feet out from the shore and much larger than an average wolf. It stared at the trio as it took another handful of steps forward, remaining a fair distance away as the distant sound of voices carried through the air.

Kisame felt Sakura's grip on his hand tighten and then go slack, her hand slipping out of his own. He glanced down at her, concerned, and found her staring ahead at the beast, an odd look in her eyes. Whether it was worry or recognition, he couldn't tell.

When he glanced back up, the wolf's position had changed. It sat calmly on the surface of the lake, as if the lake were solid stone, and, deep down, Kisame knew it wasn't looking at them, but at Sakura.

He looked to her once more, only to find that she'd left, her back disappearing in the mist on the store as she headed back into town without a word.

The wolf was gone when he looked back to the lake.

: :

Days later, Kisame woke with a start to the sound of a haunting howl.

He bolted upright in bed, heart pounding, and was silent for a few long moments, listening intently. The only sound he heard for the next fifteen minutes or so was that of the evening breeze rustling the curtains through his open window and the leaves swaying down below. With his bedroom on the second floor, he was unconcerned with leaving the window open and, when the night remained silent for another ten minutes, he let out a breath and laid back down, returning to sleep.

He awoke to a howl again some time later and this time, when he sat upright with his heart pounding and a cold sweat on his brow, he saw the wolf.

It stood next to his open window, so much larger this close, with the moonlight shining off that silver-white fur. Kisame felt his breath catch, ice gripping his heart as he found himself unable to move. The beast stared at him, that red eye glowing in the darkness, until the breeze returned and his curtains fluttered in the wind, obscuring his view of the creature entirely.

The next thing he knew, Kisame had been shoved down, a boot on his chest and a man with wild silver hair standing over him. He stared down at him with a familiar red eye, his expression grim and unreadable.

"Don't let her return."

Kisame blinked and the weight on his chest was immediately missing, the man gone without another sound.

He wasted no time in rushing out of bed, stumbling slightly as his sheets tangled with his legs as he threw open the door to his room and hurried down the hall. He slammed the door to Sakura's room open in his effort to rush inside and she sat up in bed with a shout, green eyes wide and frightened, and then confused, as she clutched a hand to her chest.

Kisame was filled with relief. After apologizing profusely and satisfying her questions, he returned to his own room, making sure to close and lock his window before laying back down in bed.

He didn't get much more sleep that night, the stranger's words repeating in his mind like a warning and plaguing his thoughts like a dark omen.

: :

The mist returned four times more over the winter.

Kisame felt his anxiety grow each time he heard the bell ring, his stomach in knots and his heart pounding even though he couldn't resist his curiosity. Sakura joined him each time and he never strayed far from her, clutching her small hand in his own and calmed only when she pressed against his side or clung to his arm. There was no more howling, but he swore he saw red out of the corner of his eye occasionally while he was out in town or out hunting in the woods.

Sakura was a constant in his life, her touch and her warmth a cherished gift in its own right. She shed pearls only a handful of times more - when she'd accidentally burned herself with the kettle, when one of their elderly neighbors passed, when they'd found an injured bird in the garden - and Kisame kept them locked away, wary of any of the townsfolk finding her secret and trying to take advantage of it.

Once, just weeks ago when Kisame gifted her a new sewing set and more fabric and thread than he could ever know what to do with, he'd been granted the opportunity to see what her joy could produce.

Her embrace was fire, spreading warmth throughout him as the sound of her laughter made his heart pounding in his ears. Happy tears rolled down her cheeks and, when they landed in the grass in the garden, they didn't find glowing pearls but, instead, tiny, perfect gems. More brilliant and dazzling than anything he'd ever seen in a jeweler's shop, with veins of pure gold running through their shining surfaces. They glowed gold, rather than white like the pearls, and Sakura seemed just as shocked as he did as they gathered the stones in their palms.

They were locked away with her other tears, but, knowing how they came to be, Kisame decided he wouldn't mind seeing more of them in the future.

He always found himself thinking of that locked box, tucked away under a loose floorboard, whenever the mists returned. He'd always known that the mist produced creatures and items that surely shouldn't be real, but surely the land they came from must have been even more fantastical than his wildest dreams if its people could create snow or turn into animals or make precious gemstones with their tears.

Surely it was a land that Sakura would want to return to.

(The thought always wrapped his heart in ice, his fingertips numb and his chest heavy just the idea of her leaving.)

A tree branch made of pure gold but light as a feather, a bear made of mist itself that swam through the water but never touched the shore, a candle with a blue flame carried by a floating lantern. Innocuous gifts with no true rhyme or reason. The bear had lingered for about twenty minutes before disappearing moments before the mist dispersed and the innkeeper, who'd found the candle, had hung the lantern outside the inn's door. He wasnt sure who had claimed the gold branch, it was likely hung over someone's mantle.

Kisame was in the woods again when he heard the bell that fourth time.

The other three times it had been early in the morning or late in the evening, all times when he was at home with Sakura and could accompany her to the lake.

Ice gripped his beard once more and he broke out into a sprint towards town.

He couldn't hear it at first, too distant and soft for him to notice over the sound of his pounding heart and his panting, but, as he reached town, he could hear something else amongst the deep ringing of the silver bell. It was a voice, singing a wordless, haunting melody, echoing through the buildings as it rode the mist through town.

Kisame didn't realize his pace had slowed until he found himself standing still in front of his house, his expression calm and his thoughts distant as he listened.

When he managed to pull himself from his daze, he realized the door to his home stood wide open.

He pushed himself to run, to hurry as he headed for the lake, passing townsfolk who stood still and unmoving, listening to the singing voice with glazed eyes and numb expressions.

When he made it to the lake, he was met with the rare sight of an empty shore.

But, for the first time in his memories, the mist had not arrived on calm waters. A storm was growing over the lake, lightning flashing in the clouds overhead and water turbulent with rolling waves, the fog thick and overwhelming as that singing voice filled his head once more. Kisame's gaze traveled slowly, his mind not processing what he saw until his eyes landed on pink and he stumbled forward with a start.

Sakura was at the edge of the water, boarding a silver gondola and taking the hand of cloaked figure. The silver hood obscured the face of the figure, but Kisame could see their mouth, open and moving as they sang and helped Sakura aboard, the long handle of their oar clutched in their free hand.

Kisame cried out her name, the weight in his chest growing heavier, and she paused, glancing back towards him. Her face was confused and frightened and she glanced around as if she didn't know where she was, looking to Kisame as tears rolled down her cheeks and pearls landed in the sand. But then the singing surged, as if spurned on by her distraction and her eyes went white, a calm expression taking the place of her fear.

Sakura turned away from him and, under the voice's thrall, took a seat in the boat.

He had to force his body to move, finding himself slowing and stopping again and again as he fought whatever power the singing had, until he finally reached the water. The gondola was a fair distance away by now but he could still see the pink of her hair through the mist. The chill of the water kept him distracted from the voice as he rushed forward, into the water and fighting the wild waves of the lake as thoughts and memories raced through his mind-

(Her embrace, her hand in his own, dinners together, a kiss under the stars, her fingers tracing old scars,, her laugh, her eyes, a warmth in his heart he'd never experienced)

-keeping his focus on his goal of reaching her. The boat seemed unaffected by the stormy waters and traveled deeper into the mist, growing further and further away from Kisame as he became more and more desperate and frightened.

Twice he lost sight as he was pulled under by the force of the storm, the water crashing over head and ice surrounding him until he broke through the surface once more, sputtering and coughing as he heaved mouthfuls of water and called out Sakura's name.

With a third time, she was lost.

Kisame managed to break through the water once more, but was filled with horror as he realized he could no longer see her, eyes searching the rolling water and the thick mist desperately for the silver boat or the pink of her hair. He could still barely hear the singing, somewhere in the distance and growing further and further away until it suddenly stopped. He felt his heart drop and was dragged back under the water by another crashing wave.

This time, he thought he might drown as he struggled to find the surface and fight the current, his chest burning now as he couldn't breathe.

But, just as dark spots were dancing on the edges of his vision, he felt a hand grab the back of his shirt and heave him out of the water. Kisame was tossed over the side of a boat, coughing up icy water and gasping for air. When he glanced up, he saw Zabuza, oars in hand and his expression concerned and grim as he watched him, soon helping to drag Kisame fully into his boat. He saw a flash of silver-white out of the corner of his eye and turned to see that strange man, standing on the surface of the water. A thick wisp of fog rolled between them and, when it cleared, the wolf stood in his place.

Without a word, the beast began heading forward into the mist.

Another look at Zabuza told Kisame everything he needed to know and he nodded, settling in the boat as his heavy heart yearned and worried, that last look on Sakura's face burned into his mind they followed the wolf across the lake and into the storm.

Never before had something from the mist returned to the mist. And never had any of the townsfolk dared to venture into it.

But, it seemed there was a first time for everything.